Cinderella
by Arwenia
Summary: "Taking someone for granted... Not appreciating the person enough until something happens that makes you wish you held your tongue... Made you wish you had no pride whatsoever. Made you wish you could turn back time..." SasorixOC ; OCxSasori ; Sasori x OC ; Character death ; Suicide ; Cursing ; Dark undertones and a bit of helplessness.


**Cinderella**

**Sasori x OC**

**M**

**1818 words**

„Than make me! I hate it when you're like that! I hate it!" She expressed her usual bout of anguish and depression. I just ignored her like the usual, carved features in the most recent wooden project.

„Sasori! Look at me when I am speaking to you!" Her hair swayed left and right and God help me. I love her so much but she is just so... overwhelming... Too noisy, too energetic. Sometimes I just need space and calm and my usual batch of sarcasm to pull me trough the day.

Without the troublesome woman and her tubes of color and unfinished paintings everywhere...

„You aren't listening to me aren't you..." Her voice seem to lull in the distance when I became more and more absorbed in the art.

Suddenly I felt her palm on mine, she grabbed the figurine and threw it trough the window.

„What the hell woman! You finally lost it! God damn it, I could sell that for a few hundred bucks!" And she slapped me. Hard.

I saw red. She saw red. We were both so enraged... I payed heavy money for that rare kind of wood!

„You aren't listening to me Sasori! You always tune me out when I try to talk to you!"

„And you always explode for nothing! You always bark in my face and don't leave me any room to breathe! I could hardly have enough space for work because of your stupid paintings!"

„Stupid! You said stupid?! I get more money with my paintings than you with your stupid worm food!" I rounded up on her, pushed he back with my chest, my fist were trembling with barely restrained rage.

„My carefully honed and thought over sculptures and its representations are way over your head. You will never understand me... You're just like the rest of them. Stupid. Ignorant. Childish. You don't know anything about art... You're unrecognized and unnoticed. You will forever be a nobody. You would never sell your stupid paintings without my circle of acquaintances..." And just when I uttered those words I knew I crossed the line. I knew there was no going back from that point over. And I knew I could never take those words back. I was too proud... I could never bend my neck and apologize.

And she could see it. Her eyes watered to the point of spilling, her hands shielding her face from the proximity of my expression. When I saw the tears running down her face I felt the second urge to comfort her, to apologize... but I stood my ground.

She was wrong. She was always the one to blame.

And I watched her back away, crossing her arms in surrender, bracing herself. I knew she was hurt, I could see her tremble... But I couldn't... for the life of me... change my mind.

She gathered her cloak and put on the shoes I bought her. She dropped her keys on her way out twice. Then she was gone.

"Good riddance." And I released the breath I was unconsciously suppressing.

…

I was carving another sculpture since the one she threw trough the window was utterly destroyed. I sighed in annoyance, heavily regretting the loss of expensive wood. I turned on the TV and switched channels to news when it hit me.

_Terrorist attack on the Shopping Center in the west side of the city! The terrorist claims to have a timer set on self-destruction. The situation seem hopeless but the authorities are doing their very best to salvage the situation!_

That was her favorite place to pout. She was always the one for shopping, buying useless things... and always after some... Always some... It was her way of coping with depression. Her way...

Before I knew it I was out of the flat, not even locking the door in my haste. I had to make sure she was alright... I was still angry at her for spouting nonsense but not as angry to wish her harm in any way. Fear clutched at my heart, making it race in fright. Galloping in my chest like an overheated horse.

"Please be alright... Please..."

…

"What do you mean we can't go inside! My girlfriend is inside!"

"Unfortunately we can't let you trough. You will be a hostage then too Sir." I gripped the cop's collar and drew him closer.

"I don't care you hear me! I don't fucking care!" The other cop put a hand on my fist, painfully separating it from the other guy's shirt.

"Calm down Sir. We don't need an additional uproar here. We're doing our everything to make sure everyone is gonna be alright. Safe and sound." I looked at him, feeling powerless. I then looked at my calloused hands only useful for carving out wood. Only useful for loving... and even in this... I am less satisfactory than I believed.

If I just shut my mouth... she would still be there, nagging at me for being a cold-hearted bastard. And I would smile and say yes, that everything she is spouting is true... and that yes, she is better in everything and all that nonsense...

And she would smile that wicked way. And her hair would flail back and forth and she would kiss me before slapping me again for giving her the cheek.

Damn woman.

"There is something going on... What is the guy requesting? A camera? He wants to go viral?" My ears perked at the information. Something was happening... I could probably see her if she is alright... If she could...

My mind was a mess, I was on the brink of crying for Christ's sake damn it! What could I do...

What can I do. What should I do.

I should switch places with her... I should be there with her... But I can't. The guy, Deidara, ordered a total lock down of the Shopping Center.

I could offer money. I had a few thousands of dollars saved up for a house we wanted to buy... I could sell the ring I wanted to propose to her with. I could call in a favor with some friends. I could borrow money...

I could...

…

I tried. The guy only laughed at me while showing her quivering form on camera. He grabbed and squeezed her body in inappropriate places, humiliating her, taunting me. He laughed at the idea of paying him for her freedom. He was toying with all of us...

He enjoyed the attention he was getting. Talking he will go out with a bang. That art was a bang, never lasting.

And for the first time in my life I was utterly and truly terrified.

…

Special forces were here... several hours after the first news... Not that it helped anything.

The guy was still taunting all of us with silent promises of a major blow up. He was wired all across his body, the heaviest and the most potent blow up material lined on him like corals and bracelets and belts. Many of them.

I felt light headed and sick at the thought that maybe, maybe we were running out of time. But whenever my thoughts fell too dark I tried to pray. I prayed for her safety. For luck. To God. To all the saints and angels.

And at the end... even to the Devil.

Even to him...

…

Some hostages came out and I ran forward, looking for her petite little form, her waving hair. Her eyes full of hurt and sadness.

But she wasn't there. There was only a shoe. One stiletto shoe I bought for anniversary. One of the pair... and I knew something was very, very wrong. I felt that this Cinderella story wouldn't end right.

…

The bastard was bragging! I have never seen such an expression on my girl! He molested her I was certain... if not something worse...

But I was certain he will pay. He will pay when Special unit gets him... or I will pound him to Hell myself. I rubbed my wrists in anxiousness. I was restless.

But then everything went to the Devil in a handbasket.

The gunshots echoed out of the building, screams of fear and outright panic rising and falling in the background.

I didn't think, I ran.

…

But I didn't get close enough. I felt the heat before I heard the noise. A large boom that shattered everything between my ears... turned my brain to mush. I realized what this meant...

She was gone. She was utterly and truly gone.

In slow motion I saw how the force propelled me backward, how the previously safe-kept stiletto flew out of my grasp and the last thing before I fell unconscious was the feeling of such a deep regret and self-loathing I couldn't describe in any words I knew.

Blackness took me from unrealized emotion spelled loss.

…

A few months later

…

"_Talk to me! Talk to me Sasori!"_

"I am talking to you... Don't you hear me? Where are you love? I can't see you..." I barely recognized the environment. What appeared to be our shared apartment was now a major memorial shrine. I never sold any of her unfinished works... I never cleaned her stuff out. I couldn't.

My face gaunt and unshaven... my figure slim and bony. I did not care. Not anymore.

"How stupid..." I leaned into her pillow, bracing myself in her smell... Still carefully preserved and cherished... bordering on stink, on dust. But I could still feel her.

„_Stupid! You said stupid?!"_

"I'm sorry... I am so, so sorry darling..." Squeezing the ring I wanted to give her, pressing it to my cracked lips in regret, in self-pity. Pressing it so close it drew blood, coloring the cheap diamond crimson.

"You deserved better... You always deserved better... I am so, so sorry..." Tears leaking shamelessly down into my ears, sobs shaking my lying figure.

"I am pathetic... I didn't deserve you... I couldn't save you... I hurt you... I love you..."

"_I hate it when you're like that! I hate it!"_

"I know... I know... I'm sorry... for everything..."

…

That night Sasori kept all the windows open, the balcony doors cracked wide, letting the winter cold seep in, embracing him in his misery, calming him for the first time in months.

The next day the neighbor found him battered and broken, starved and malnourished, clutching the stiletto shoe to his chest. Dead.

Later, a fellow artist made a memorial statue in shape of his dying form clutching the stiletto. The work became widely appreciated and well known, but not many knew the story behind the dying form.

Not many knew the tragic story of Cinderella.

...

**Author's note:**

When you hurt a person apologize despite it being difficult.

Learn from stories and be grateful they are only stories and not reality.

**Bye,**

**Arwenia**

**P.S.: **Don't own Naruto or anything really.


End file.
